A little death
by princeofbooty
Summary: TW : SELF HARM hello this is a sad jeanmarco fic im attempting to write, im really nervous about posting it actually. (this is also my first story ive posted anywhere) so warnings : self harm and major character death are the two big ones


Chapter one

Marco Bolt and his long term boyfriend, Jean Kirschtein, lived in the sunny, southern state of Georgia, Savannah to be exact. But today Marco was hoping that Jean would no longer be just his boyfriend, but his fiancé. His plan was to have Jean meet him at one of the squares after Jean's work so he could propose. And that's where Marco was heading now to make sure everything was perfect.

The traffic was busy as usual, all the day time tour buses doing their routes around the Historic District. You got use to the noise though so it wouldn't be much of a bother to Marco's proposal. Looking both ways before crossing Marco walks between the faded white crosswalk and onto the next street. By now the park was moments away for him and Jean would be arriving in around fifteen minutes. That gave Marco plenty of time to prepare.

He was at the last crosswalk that would lead into the park, again he looked both ways. This time around Marco didn't spot the speeding sports car come wheeling around the corner. The very last second Marco's eyes widened, then it went silent.

He had no time to scream. He had no time to move out of the way. It all ended in a red blur. And that was the end to Marco Bolts life.

The after mass of the crash consisted of people screaming and calling 911 all at once. Minutes later the sirens came flashing and parted the crowd. The man driving the car eyes were wide open as he kneeled on the ground realizing what had happened. Police officials asked around if anyone knew the man who was just run over. No one did.

Jean had managed to get off work early in order to go met Marco at the square. He smiled and hummed as he walked along the shaded streets. His humming soon slowed to a stop when he saw all the panic and flashing lights. Jean noticed an ambulance and a couple cop cars, and then he realized this was the square Marco was meeting him at. His heart drops to his stomach as he pushed through the crowd looking for Marco.

Then he finds him. His body half mutilated, the other stone cold dead. All the sounds around Jean freeze as he walks toward Marco. There was no way that he could be saved. His Marco was gone. Marco he was with for years. Marco he was hoping to spend the rest of his life with. Gone, just like that.

"Sir, you can't be around the crime scene." An official speaks to Jean, him not really hearing.

"M-marco." Was the only choke of words that could come out of Jeans mouth.

"Do you know this man, sir?" The official asks of Jean, this time him hearing.

All Jean can manage is a slight shake of the head, but he gets whisked away and inside the small area around Marco's body. The official awkwardly pats Jean on the back and leaves him be. Jean couldn't belive this was happening. How could this of happened? Why did this have to happen?

Small tears turn to sobs as Jean looks at Marcos dead expression. He collapses onto Marco and lets all his tears free. Nothing mattered to him anymore. He had just lost the one most important person in his whole life, and now he was gone forever.

It was fuzzy but the officer had asked Jean to go with one of the ambulances along to where ever it was they were taking Marcos body. Jean nods slightly and dries his tears on his shirtsleeve, then slowly standing and getting into the front of the ambulance Marco was in.

After a short period of driving they stopped at a morgue. Jean couldn't stand thinking Marco was going to be left on a cold slab in a plastic body bag. Even if he was dead Jean still wanted the best for Marco. An older man with graying hair sat across from the table Jean was sitting at.

"We really don't want to press anything on you so soon after, the best recommendation would be going home and getting some rest. Maybe even stay at a friend's house." A wonky smile laced with sympathy ended the man's sentence. "Do you need a ride home?"

"Ah, no. Thank you though." Jean says, his eyes keeping to his hands.

Once back inside the apartment Jean flicks the light on, a sigh escaping his lips. It just felt so empty now, like the warmth and happiness was gone. He had no idea what to do. Slow plodding feet carry him to the couch where he falls down and rests an arm across his eyes. The smell of the couch, the air, everything reminded him of Marco. A lump forms in Jean's throat as small tears collect along his eyes.

This could be his fault. Somehow it had to of been his fault. Maybe he just wasn't careful enough and it had to end up with Marco dead. It was Marcos idea to go to the park, but Jean could have prevented that. He should have known something like this would happen and now it was all his fault that Marco had to pay the price.

By now the tears ran tracks along Jean's cheeks, gross sobs choking out from his mouth. Jean stumbles up and onto his feet, his body knocks against the walls of the hall as he ends up in the bathroom. Through blurry eyes Jean rummages through the cabinet till he finds his shaving razor. Now that he had it in his hands his knees go weak and he slides down to the ground. Very clumsily Jean takes apart the razor till the blades fall out onto the floor.

Shoving his sleeve back and grabbing one of the blades he cuts deeply against the skin of his wrist. This is what he deserved for what happened to Marco. That never would have happened if he had not left work just a bit earlier. He could have saved Marco.

The red lines dot and blur with more tears falling from his eyes. His fingers release the grip on the blade and Jean shuts his eyes. The picture of how Marco was last time he saw him was to strong and it forced Jean to keep his eyes open. All he wanted to do was sleep and wake up to it all being a dream. Yes, he would wake up with Marco wrapped around him and everything would be perfect.

But deep down he knew it wouldn't.


End file.
